In filth ridden rags, sore and in chains
No longer a servant of crosses and tales
He saw for the first time through
All of his fears and pains

As all the ships sailed into the fjord
Walls of stone that reach for the moon
In prayers he begged
“Father and Lord”

Soon they arrived and no prayer was heard
Whips lashed at his back as he fell into the sand
In his prayers he screamed
“Father and lord, bless me with your ward”

In tears he rejected the Father and Son
He was now made a slave and his freedom
Was gone
Ridden with hunger and threatened by sword
Brought to a chamber to meet his newfound lord
Wise man made of stone
Recited the words that the slave swore that day

Hardship and pain
A priest made slave
And lost his faith

“To you I surrender my life and skill
My hopes and dreams shall be under your will
Your word is my law and to break it means to
Bestow myself tenfolds the shame I caused you”

So it took place so long ago
A priest made slave, now knee-deep in snow
Twisted and fixated in the frozen mud
He swore a last curse while coughing up blood

“I curse you in hatred from my broken bones
Downfall, fire, curse you, I curse you”

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